


Under Orders

by DameRuth



Series: Bliss [24]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fluff, Introspection, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24597526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameRuth/pseuds/DameRuth
Summary: Prequel to"Catty Remarks"-- quiet morning time on the TARDIS, and Jack's reflections (part of the Bliss!verse).[Continuing the Teaspoon imports, original posting date 2008.09.13.]
Relationships: Ninth Doctor/Jack Harkness/Rose Tyler
Series: Bliss [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/14078
Kudos: 17





	Under Orders

**Author's Note:**

> Another ["Support Stacie"](http://supportstacie.net/?page_id=58) ficlet for isabelle -- 100% fluff; be sure to brush your teeth after reading!
> 
> * * *

Jack woke up in one of his favorite positions: playing the filling in a Doctor-and-Rose sandwich. His front was plastered to the Doctor's side, his arm across the Time Lord's waist, his head resting on the Doctor's chest. Rose was pressed warm and soft against his back. Jack got the distinct impression of sunlight pouring in through an open window somewhere behind him, even though the bedroom lights were dimmed for sleeping. It was Rose, of course, awake and radiating happy affection on the metaphysical plane.  
  
The Doctor broke the surface of consciousness just after Jack, probably in response to the others' wakefulness, but only barely.  
  
"Mornin'," Jack mumbled into the Doctor's pectoral muscle. Returning awareness reminded him of the sore muscles he'd collected yesterday, so he didn't bother moving. The Doctor didn't say anything at all, already drifting again. Jack didn't blame him -- he had a vivid memory of the Doctor wading through miles of knee-deep muck and water with two hundred pounds of spectrophotometer hoisted casually over his head. That would be enough to tire anyone out.  
  
A gentle hand ran along his shoulder and down his arm. "Mornin'," Rose murmured softly back. "You two are cute when you sleep, you know that?"  
  
"'M always cute," Jack commented.  
  
Rose giggled. "Well, you sure didn't strain your _ego_ yesterday," she told him, voice going dry. Then her tone went soft again. "You two stay put -- I'm gonna go get some breakfast started for us. I'm starvin'." She dropped a gentle kiss on the point of Jack's shoulder, and rolled out of bed. He heard the rustle of fabric, followed by light footsteps across the room and the opening and closing of the door.  
  
The Doctor was on the edge of going back to sleep, only peripherally aware of what was going on. Jack seriously considered joining him in unconsciousness, but some small spark of motivation made him roll over (as softly as possible, to avoid disturbing the Doctor) and out of bed.  
  
Even with a full night's sleep in physical contact with the others, his muscles were stiff and sore. The healing properties of the link could apparently only do so much. Jack grimaced, stretching. Time to start hitting the TARDIS gym even more regularly. Then he tiptoed to the door and let himself out. He didn't bother with clothes -- the soles of his feet were tough enough not to be bothered by the metal grating of the TARDIS's floors, and with just the three of them aboard, there wasn't exactly a dress code.  
  
Rose, as promised, was in the galley. Jack could hear the rattle of cooking gear well down the corridor, and tuned in to the link. Rose's mind was a cheerful, inspired whirl of bright colors and remembered flavors as she planned out a menu. ( _Tea,_ ) she was thinking, ( _toast/omelette/skara gruel . . ._ ). Jack approved of her ideas; he could murder a big bowl of skara now and not even mind the weird purple-green color.  
  
On impulse, he decided to do a shielding exercise, stopping down his portion of the link and upping his general mental protections as he padded silently down the corridor towards the open door. He wondered how close he could get to Rose without her noticing. Given her distraction, he might have fairly good luck . . .  
  
He made it as far as the door of the galley. Rose was moving with graceful efficiency, wrapped in a light, silky robe, her hair mostly caught back in a casual mass. She was humming something Jack didn't recognize, but broke off, freezing with her back to him and an upraised spatula in one hand.  
  
"Jack Harkness," she said, with a definite edge of Jackie Tyler in her tone, "if you're tryin' to sneak up on me, you'd better reconsider before I put this spatula somewhere inappropriate."  
  
Jack laughed. "Promises, promises," he told her. She turned around and brandished the spatula threateningly, but she was smiling.  
  
"All right, all right, I'll be good," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "You want some help?"  
  
"No, I can handle it, " she said. "It's no more trouble to cook for three than for one. Go back to bed -- you're still sore," (no doubt she could sense that as a physical reality, now that Jack wasn't shielding anymore), "might as well get in some more rest and a little extra cuddle time with the Doctor. It'll be good f'r both of you."  
  
"I'll be fine, once I loosen up," he started to protest, but Rose cut him off.  
  
"I mean it. Back to bed, now. Shoo!" She waved her hand at him, affectionately but firmly, and he gave in.  
  
He walked slowly back to the bedroom, trailing one hand along the warm, living wall of the TARDIS, feeling the faint thrum of her engines (or was that the beating of her heart? He was never sure . . .) Behind him, Rose was humming to herself again, a bright, joyous presence, perfectly happy and pleased to be looking after the people she loved. Ahead of him, he could feel the massive (if dozing) presence of the Doctor, like a distant stormwall of clouds shot full of swirling undercurrents and quick lightning, paradoxically safe and comforting -- at least for those he counted as friends and adopted family.  
  
It was times like this he really felt the strangeness of his new life. The whole down-the-rabbit-hole craziness of Time Lords and TARDISes and Daleks and Universe-spanning adventure he could take in stride. It was moments like this that surprised him: a safe place that felt like home, people who were happy to share a bed for more than sex, people who liked looking after one another (and him) in small, everyday ways . . . that was the unbelievable bit.  
  
In his more morbid moments, Jack was inclined to wonder if he wasn't _really_ lying face-down on some battlefield after taking a fatal shot to the head -- or, even more likely, in an alleyway with a knife in his back -- and this was all some comforting fantasy generated by his dying brain as the last of his consciousness ran down the drain into oblivion. It was certainly the more plausible scenario, given his life thus far.  
  
The TARDIS sent ripples of vibration up his arm, and he got the faintest hint of liquid gold in the back of his mind, reassuring. It certainly _felt_ real enough. Might as well just believe in it and enjoy, he thought, the decision he always reached in these moments.  
  
Besides, he was achy enough for this to be real. Most dreams didn't include lactic acid buildup. The thought cheered him considerably.  
  
Unlatching the bedroom door as silently as possible, he slipped inside to cuddle with a Time Lord, as ordered.

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=25635>


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